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tie your heart to mine

Summary:

At night, beloved, tie your heart to mine,
That they may defeat the darkness in dreams

— Sonnet LXXIX, Pablo Neruda

Notes:

Prompt:

Night drive

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Hermione slipped off her sandals and raced down the beach to the lapping waves. “Come on!” she shouted over her shoulder. She waded in up to her knees, her beaming smile lighting up the darkness.

“It's almost midnight, you nutter,” Draco called back, smiling in spite of himself at his girlfriend's antics.

They had spent the better part of the afternoon and all evening exploring the Brighton seaside with Hermione playing tour guide and showing him all her favourite spots. She’d been growing increasingly melancholic over the past couple weeks and he was glad to see her spark returning.

“Please?” she begged. “Just for a minute?”

Defenses crumbling faster than a sandcastle, Draco rolled his eyes but bent over to shuck off his shoes and socks, much to Hermione’s delight. Walking down to the water's edge, he took a few steps in, only up to his ankles.

“This is as far as I go,” he told her.

“That’s fine,” Hermione said, eyes sparkling. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she rose on her tiptoes to press her lips to his.

Her kiss was sticky-sweet with peppermint, still tasting of the Brighton rock they'd purchased earlier. Draco felt as if he could drink from her lush mouth forever…but they still had several hours of driving to do before the night was over.

Breaking the kiss, he swept Hermione’s legs out from under her, lifting her petite frame into his arms. He started striding across the sand, only pausing briefly to dip down and scoop up their shoes.

“Draco Malfoy, you put me down right this instant!” she shrieked, arms flailing before wrapping around his neck in a desperate clinch.

He smirked down at her. “I don't know, Granger, I find that I quite enjoy when you're wet and clinging to me.”

“You're such a prat. The biggest prat I've ever met,” she said, laughing.

“Would a prat carry you to the car so your feet don't get sandy?” he countered.

Hermione wriggled in his arms in a futile attempt to loosen his grip. “I'm perfectly capable of casting an evanesco, thank you.”

Someone requested a completely magic-free day,” Draco reminded her, “and I'm in the habit of giving my favourite witch exactly what she wants.” He dropped a quick kiss on top of her curls for emphasis.

Hermione huffed and turned her face into the crook of his neck, her soft lips mumbling something against his skin.

“What was that?” he asked, all innocence.

Head popping up to mock-glare at him, she repeated, “I said, ‘you're right.’”

Draco’s grin spread across his face in triumph. “You say the sweetest things, love.”

Upon reaching the pavement, he dropped their shoes and carefully placed Hermione on the ground. He did his best to brush the granules from his feet, but knew he was fighting a losing battle and gave up, putting his socks and shoes on once more. Hermione watched him—her feet happily sand-free—and took his arm at the elbow after he straightened. She leant against his side as they walked the short trek back to her car.

“Would you mind driving? I’m knackered all of a sudden.” She yawned widely, proving her point.

“Of course.”

Rummaging in her pocket, she fished out the keys and handed them over. He held open her door, allowing her to get settled before circling to the driver's side and slipping into the seat. Draco turned the key in the ignition, the engine humming to life. He let it warm up for a few minutes, a comfortable silence filling the space between him and Hermione.

Turning towards him, she murmured, “Thank you for this.”

“For driving?” he asked, confused. “You know I don't mind.”

Hermione shook her head, curls swaying. She gestured vaguely to the beach and the pier and said, “No, for all of it. I know I didn't really explain to you why I wanted to come here.”

Draco took one of her hands in his, running his thumb over her knuckles. “You don't have to tell me.”

“I want to. The last time I came here”—she hesitated, taking a breath—“was my last holiday with my parents.”

He gave her fingers a comforting squeeze, encouraging her to continue.

“We always came here for Mum’s birthday,” Hermione said softly.

“Her birthday was today?”

She nodded, lips twisted in a regretful half-smile. “Yeah.”

“I wish I could’ve met them.”

“You being here today with me…it kind of feels like you did.”

His heart twinged in his chest. Every piece of herself that she revealed to him tied his heart more irrevocably to hers. Draco lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing her fingers before releasing her.

Shifting gears, Draco pulled out of the parking spot and onto the empty street, following the signs to the motorway. The A23 stretched ahead of them, leading back to their lives in London. He glanced at Hermione, watching light and shadow dance across her face as he drove, her lashes dark against her cheek as she struggled to stay awake.

Hermione yawned again, and he said, “Get some rest. I’ll be fine driving.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, eyes already closed, voice heavy with sleep.

“Promise,” he assured her.

“Okay…love you,” she breathed.

“And I, you,” he returned.

Draco turned the radio on, a mellow love song filtering through the speakers. By the time the song was over, Hermione was asleep.

Notes:

In case you're wondering what Brighton rock is, it's this!